A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall meet the loved who now
Are sleeping in the tomb.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
O, wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

A few more storms shall beat
On this wild, rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that calm day;
O, wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

A few more struggles here,
A few more partings sore,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O, wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

'Tis but a little while,
And He shall come again
Who died that we might live, who lives
That we may with Him reign.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that glad day;
O, wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!